


Chapter Three

by broadwayblainey



Series: Last Christmas [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayblainey/pseuds/broadwayblainey
Summary: A lot happens in not a lot of time.It's time for them to face their feelings.





	Chapter Three

Why was there always so much noise in the morning? Also, why did his neck hurt?   
Kurt sat up and answered the second question; he had fallen asleep on the couch. He vaguely recalled movies and a bottle of red wine. And two more. The noise was music, and it changed as Kurt stumbled across the hall and into the kitchen. That's where he found Blaine dancing with two mugs in his hands.  
"Oh. Good morning, camper," he chirped when he saw Kurt. He put the mugs on the table and held his hands out for Kurt. "Dance with me."  
"It's like three in the morning."  
"It's a little after ten, Kurt."  
"The same thing," he whined, but let Blaine grab his hands nonetheless. "I don't want to dance," he said but did it anyway. "What song is this?"  
"It's I Love To Love," Blaine huffed and raised an arm for Kurt to spin under. "Tina Charles."  
"Not very festive."  
"Since when is 70's disco not festive?"  
"Good point."  
They danced and danced until Blaine banged his hip against the table and angrily grumbled a few uncharacteristic choice words. He started up again, though, and sang through the pain.  
"I love to love," he belted, his nose was squished against Kurt's cheek and his mouth was too close to his ear for volume to be anywhere close to acceptable. "But he won't give our love a chance," Kurt would have joined in but this was probably the only disco song Burt didn't make him listen to as a kid, so he just let Blaine lead him through a few more spins, their chests so close Kurt's head span, too. "I love to love, but my baby just loves to dance."   
"No, actually, I don't."  
The music stopped abruptly and the opening bars of Dolly Parton's Nine To Five started; Blaine's ringtone.  
"Oh, damn. Hang on," Blaine let go of Kurt and picked up his phone. After looking at the number he said, "Do you mind if I take this?"  
"Go ahead," Kurt picked up his cooling coffee and took a long swig.   
Blaine excused himself into the living room and shut the door behind him, leaving Kurt red-faced and a little out of breath, but smiling and content all the same.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"I have news."  
"News?" Kurt asked over his now cold cup of coffee. "Good news?"  
"Yes, good news," Blaine sat next to him at the table with a wide grin on his face. "I got a part."  
"A part? Like, an acting part?"  
"Yes, silly, like an acting part," he said with a chuckle. "It's a play; I was auditioning and auditioning all summer with no luck but I got a call early last month from a director. He said he liked me but I wasn't right for him -"  
"Been there."  
"Shh," Blaine laughed. "He gave my details to his friend and she called."  
"That's amazing," he grabbed Blaine's hand and kissed it. Blaine looked at him quietly for a minute.  
"It's in New York," he said, another little grin on his face.  
"New York? Like, Broadway?"  
"Oh, God. No. Off-Broadway, way off. It's a start, though."  
"Of course it is."  
"I did lie to you, though."  
"When?"  
"I said I would be coming from London, but I was in New York; it was the very last round of auditions and I didn't want to jinx it."  
"I think I can forgive you for that."  
He was so happy for Blaine, but so overcome by a certain kind of wistful sadness that twisted his gut into knots of something he couldn't put his finger on. Insecurity, perhaps. And maybe a little sadness. Even though he knew Blaine's visit wasn't forever, he would miss his friend. It often felt like they were on passing trains; close for a minute, then moving on again. He'd pin him down, if he could, and make him stay.  
But that was selfish, Blaine deserved every piece of happiness he could find.  
"What's wrong?" Blaine asked after a moment.  
"I'll just miss you," Kurt took his hand again and held it in his lap.  
"I'll be closer now, closer than London, we'll visit each other all the time."  
"Of course we will," Kurt agreed. "It just seems like we're always leaving each other."  
"Not leaving," Blaine assured quickly. "I'm just ... somewhere different."  
"That is the definition of leaving, sweetheart," Kurt said with a sad chuckle. Guilt made the back of his neck hot. "I'm sorry, I'm putting a dampener on everything."  
"No you're right," Blaine wrapped his other palm around their linked hands. "It would be nice, wouldn't it? To be together."  
Blaine's eyes were staring right into his. Wide, pretty eyes, so caring and so absolutely beaming at Kurt. Maybe Blaine had always looked at him like that and Kurt had been too busy pretending to not be so in over his head to see it. He couldn't mean what Kurt thought he did, could he? Of course not. There's nothing Blaine could see in him, he was a mess most of the time. What would lovely Blaine ever see in him?  
They were just friends, right?  
"Blaine, what -"  
"We could ..." Blaine trailed off with a groan and rubbed his eyes with his fists. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."  
"Blaine, I can't."  
"You feel it, though, don't you?"  
 _Yes, yes, of_ course _I do._  
"Blaine."  
"Because if you don't, that's okay. If it's all in my head, that's fine. But if it's not, if you feel the same way, we can -"  
"What way is that, Blaine?" he asked, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear the answer. Blaine's lips moved as if he was trying to find the words.  
"Just so stupidly, completely," he stopped briefly as if he was silently daring Kurt to stop him. When Kurt didn't he continued, "In love with you."  
After that there was no going back, was there?   
"I'm married," he blurted awkwardly. Because that was a perfectly rational thing to say. Why did his marriage ruin everything?  
"No, you're not," Blaine said, visibly sinking into his chair.  
Kurt pushed himself out of his chair and over to the counter. If he could just not look at Blaine for a second, he would get his mind in the right place. There was a hand on his arm, gentle and warm, and Kurt fought against his instinct and stopped himself from melting into it.   
But, of course, his impulses won, as they often did. He turned to face his friend, his dearest person. Then he kissed him. One hand on Blaine's jaw, the other at the nape of his neck, holding his face in place, and just kissed him. An arm was around his waist, a hand at the small of his back, and another cupping his cheek lightly. They stayed like that and kissed and kissed until Kurt couldn't ignore the tears in his eyes and pulled away.  
"Blaine."  
"Oh, God," Blaine breathed as he took in the tears falling onto Kurt's cheeks. "We don't have to," he whispered. He wiped Kurt's face with the cuff of his sleeve. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to, Kurt, ever."  
"I want to," Kurt admitted lowly. Wasn't that obvious? "It'll hurt."  
"Why?"   
"Because it will, because that's what happens," he tried to calm himself. This was Blaine, Blaine would never hurt him. Saying his fears out loud was like letting out air and, despite the tears and his sweaty palms, it helped. "I don't want to hurt again. No matter how much I want ..." he gripped Blaine's hand and kissed it again. "No matter how much I want you, if this was ever ruined, I don't know what I would do."  
Blaine brought their joined hands up to his mouth now, and then it was his turn to kiss Kurt's. He smiled and it wasn't sad, it wasn't angry, it was understanding. Kurt felt like he could breathe again.  
"That's okay," Blaine murmured.   
"It's not, I'm sorry, Blaine."  
"You don't need to be sorry."  
"Please don't hate me," he whispered pretty pathetically.  
"I could never," Blaine said back just as quietly. "Never. I shouldn't have pushed you."  
"You've never pushed me," Kurt said quickly. "You've always been so lovely. I'm just a mess."  
"Stop saying that about yourself."  
"I am," he pecked Blaine's cheek, and then his mouth. "Can I just have a minute?"  
"Yeah, sure."  
He kissed Blaine again, slower this time, and let himself feel nothing else for a minute, and then left for his bedroom.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Three hundred and nineteen. That was how many flowers Kurt had counted on his wallpaper. So far. His record was seven and fifty-three, but that was during a particularly sleepless night where sleep might as well have been a magic trick.   
He rolled over onto his back and peered up at the ceiling. Really, he thought, he should have stayed downstairs and talked things through with Blaine. The troublesome thing was that he wasn't really sure what he wanted to say. He loved him, that had been clear for a long time, maybe even since the night they met. It wasn't something he could describe easily, though he had tried. There was a feeling of safety; an instant mutual understanding with absolutely no judgment. Within weeks they were best friends. And it seemed like Blaine was always meant to find him. That it was meant to be. But, fate and meant to be was something Kurt had given up on.  
He didn't want it to be that way. As a child, he read fairytales until the words blurred together. He would sit between his parents and mouth every word to every Disney movie with a happy ending until they begged him to watch something, anything, else. Then his husband happened. He took and took and took from Kurt and gave nothing back. It didn't matter how Kurt tried to make it work and find his happy ending, it never happened. And he was empty by the end of it, a shell of who he was. He was starting to feel like a person again, strong enough to never let another person do that to him again.  
His parents had had it, though. The love at first sight, perfect marriage thing. It was why Kurt believed in it in the first place. They were high school sweethearts and Burt was the only man Elizabeth ever loved. Meant to be, truly. Made for each other in every way. Losing her nearly ruined his Dad, emptied him out in a similar way Kurt had been broken into recently. Kurt had been, too, when he lost his mother. That was the first time he had picked himself up and started to glue the shattered pieces back together. What other choice did he have?  
Now he was just fucking sick and tired of having to put his life back together because of things he couldn't control.  
Blaine, he knew, was different. Different from his husband and to most other people Kurt had met. His rational mind knew that and knew that he could trust him to not hurt him, at least not in the way his husband had. But it was hard to be rational, sometimes, it was hard to think clearly. There was something there, though. Some deep pull that made him want to forget about all of it and just tell Blaine, yes, of course I want this.  
His phone vibrated on the pillow next to him, and it really was like his old man could read his mind.   
"Hey."  
"What's wrong?"  
"Is my life really that awful that you just assume something is wrong?"  
"No, I've just known you your whole life, I know when something is wrong," his father sighed.   
"Nothing's wrong."  
"We can go around in circles, Kurt, or you can just tell me now and I don't have to bug you and sit here worrying for hours."  
"Fine," he sat up against his headboard. "I had a ... thing with Blaine."  
"Like a fight?"  
"Not really. We, uh," he stopped and realized he was about to talk to his father about his love life, and that didn't thrill him.  
"What?"  
"We, we kissed," he said quietly.  
"And that's bad?"  
"I don't know," he sighed. "It was weird."  
"Weird? Blaine's a bad kisser?"  
"No, he's a very good kisser. We don't have to talk about that."  
"I agree, that's enough detail on that front," they both huffed slightly awkward laughs. "So what's the problem?"  
"That's just it, I don't really know what the problem is."  
"You're not making much sense."  
"Believe me, I know," he laughed again, kind of sadly. They were quiet for a second. "Can I ask you something?"  
"You can ask me anything, kid."  
"After Mom," he started and tried to find the right words. "How did you do it again?"  
"You mean, like, marrying Carole?"  
"Yeah."  
"You didn't give me much of a choice, Kurt, when you set us up," he was laughing again but this one was much more genuine. "I don't know, I just did."  
"That's not helpful."  
"I know," his Dad sighed. "But it's true; I just did," he was silent again, and Kurt could imagine the expression of thought on his Dad's face as if he were sat on the bed next to him. "I was messed up for a while, I didn't think I would ever be happy again. But one day, maybe a few years after she was gone, I just thought El would've killed me if she could have known I was like that. If she had known I was unhappy like that. I didn't want what happened to us to take the rest of my life from me."  
"That's easier said than done."  
"I know," his Dad said. "It's a choice you have to make, and you have been making it since you came home. You've maybe been making it since you were a kid. All the bad things that have happened to you, you get through them. Even if you yell and cry, you get through them. You've got that Hummel thing, that stubborn streak, you're unstoppable when you want something."  
"I know where I get that from."  
"Yeah, me. So if I can do it, so can you."  
"It's not the same."  
"I know it's not, kid," there was another sigh down the phone. "If I knew what to say, if I had the answers, I'd tell you. Maybe it just takes time."  
"Do you think Mom would be angry? If she knew I was like this?"  
"Never," he Dad said quickly, surely. "She would ... give you your legs to stand on. She would tell you that you can make this work if you really want to, and you're certainly strong enough to be just fine if you don't."  
"You're smarter than you look."  
"I know."  
"I need to talk to Blaine."  
"You do," there was a short pause and he added, "I can't tell you how this will work out, kid, maybe it just won't, and that's okay. What I will say is that maybe this won't be another thing you have to get through. Maybe this can be something you love, something you get to have rather than have to fight with."  
"Maybe," Kurt agreed. "God, I need to talk to Blaine."   
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After a few hours, Kurt was tired of staring at the ceiling. His talk with his Dad helped, he knew what he needed and what he wanted, so he decided to venture to the living room where he found Blaine curled under a blanket on the couch and looking out the window.  
"Hey."  
Blaine's head snapped around at his voice and an impish grin spread across his face.  
"Your neighbor's cats are kind of mean," he said, and his sentence was punctuated with a high yowl from outside.  
"I know," Kurt said and sat in Burt's chair. "I'm sorry, Blaine."  
"You don't need to be sorry."  
"I feel like maybe I've led you on," he tried to explain. "Being with me would be ... complicated. I don't want to hurt you and make you like me. And I don't want to be hurt again."  
"I get it," Blaine said gently. "I think if anyone has earned the right to be picky about who he lets into his life, it's you."  
"I know it makes me sound childish, to be frightened."  
"It's not childish, not after what you've been through," he was resting against the arm of the couch and looked much more sure of himself than Kurt could remember seeing him. "You've been through more loss and hurt than I think most people could imagine. If you look at your life now and want to control everything about it, every person you let in, I think that's more than understandable," Blaine offered a very genuine smile. "You get to be picky, you've more than earned that. And if I'm one of them, I would count myself very lucky."  
"You're one of them," Kurt assured quickly. He climbed over the other arm of the couch and up to Blaine. After wrapping him into a tight hug he whispered again, "You're one of them."  
Blaine hugged him back and rocked them from side to side. They stayed like that and Kurt pressed his face against Blaine's neck.   
He wanted this and this and nothing but this, he realized with a loud flutter in his chest.  
His mouth found Blaine's cheek, then his mouth. The kiss was chaste and quick, not unlike ones they had shared before; usually as a greeting or a farewell.   
"We could go slowly, couldn't we?" he murmured, his face barely an inch away from Blaine's. Blaine looked down at his lips and then back to his eyes.  
"Glacial."  
"I mean it."  
"So do I," Blaine said, his lips ghosting along Kurt's cheek. "I told you, whatever you want."  
"What about what you want?"  
"He's in my lap," his smile was right up against Kurt's.  
"You can't give that to me; I can't be everything."  
"Not even if I want you to be?" he asked. When Kurt gave him a look, he shook his head and said, "Not everything, but I've seen life with and without you, and it's much better, much brighter, with you in it."  
They kissed again and Kurt gripped Blaine's face and let himself fall deeper and deeper.  
"You can't ever yell at me," he murmured, mouth brushing Blaine's.  
"Never. I promise," he pressed his lips to Kurt's cheek.  
"And I love you, too, by the way," he said. "I didn't say it back earlier."  
"I know," he whispered. "We'll be alright, Kurt."  
"Happy?"  
"So happy. I promise."  
There wasn't much else he could ask for. Or that he could say, so he didn't. He sat there with Blaine and let himself feel hope and light because life was for living, so that's what he was going to do. Every dance, every laugh, every kiss, every tear; he would live for all of it.


End file.
